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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683498">Caesura</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprezzaaturaa/pseuds/Sprezzaaturaa'>Sprezzaaturaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dream Team SMP Spoilers, I'm Sorry, Post-Manburg-Pogtopia war, This is sad and angsty, Unbeta-d for the time being, Wilbur being wilbur, but technically its kind of temporary?, canonical death, maybe? - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:22:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprezzaaturaa/pseuds/Sprezzaaturaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>**Warning: Spoilers for the events of November 16th and the Manberg - Pogtopia war**</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A brief look at things from the perspective of our dirty crime boy immediately following what transpires after Philza's arrival and the button push.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Caesura</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I really don't know what this is? Insomnia was kicking my ass and the inspiration for this hit me literally out of nowhere and held me hostage till I finished it. Legit just typed this all out on my phone so its probably awful, but I thought I'd share! </p><p>This has since been tidied up a bit, and depending on how this goes and how my brain works at it this could turn into something bigger or longer involving Ghostbur and all that.</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rumble of TNT in his chest feels like relief,  like clarity, like a great unlocking of all the world's secrets. </p><p>For the first time in a while Wilbur feels like he can actually breathe, and he closes his eyes for a moment to bask in the heat of the explosions on his face like its the warmth of the sunbeam on a particularly beautiful day. He feels like a puppet who has had all his strings cut, finally free from that which tethered him to reality and held him back. Brown eyes blink open to witness the destruction he has wrought, and his lips curve into a soot-stained smile. The TNT has effectively ripped through the square, leaving it nearly unrecognizable. And if he listens carefully, Wilbur can hear the echos of further explosions, as the detonations follow the path he so painstakingly carved beneath the nation. </p><p>For a moment its almost like the world stops to breathe along with him, ragged and aching, dragging through tattered lungs and tearing past blistered lips. It has been such a long day, a long week, a long..month. It feels like forever. </p><p>He turns his gaze then to Philza, and the disappointment in his father's eyes burns like the scorched earth he created. It burns like his ruinous nation- doomed from the start- that is now finally reflecting the tumult within his own heart. </p><p>Wilbur is suprised by the tears tracking down his cheeks, unexpected and hot (so hot, like fire, like explosions, like carnage), and he tells himself that they are from relief; from the culmination of weeks of plotting. Of planning. Of introspection. Of secrecy. Not the guilt carving its way through his chest, deeper and deeper with the faint cries of dismay he can now hear carried on the wind with the ash and smoke. But no, he refuses to let the story he has so carefuly crafted shift from its track. </p><p>At this point, there's only one way to finish this. A grand finale- the close to the clattering symphony. A frenzied bid to escape the cacophony in his head-the ringing in his ears. An escape. </p><p>"MY L'MANBERG, PHIL. MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY FOREVER UNFINISHED!" He crows, voice rough and grating to his ears. "IF I CAN'T HAVE IT, NO ONE CAN." </p><p>A harsh laugh bubbles from his mouth, and he takes several steps closer pointedly ignoring the way his father flinches as he does so. "Kill me Phil- Phil, kill me!" His words are the feverish ravings of a madman on the edge of the world as it unravels at his feet. "Phil, kill me, kill me, Phil- stab me with the sword, murder me now. Kill me. Kill me!" </p><p>Wilbur fumbles at his belt, ignoring the way his hands shake, and tosses his sword, glimmering with enchantments at Philza's feet. The man's eyes drop to it immediately, throat bobbing with a heavy swallow. Wilbur's smile stretches into a grin, manic like the desperation growing in his eyes, and he swears he can already taste the blood on his lips. </p><p>"Kilza...Killza! Do it- kill me, Phil. Murder me. Look! They all want you to- do it, Phil. Kill me." </p><p>Philza's expression is twisted by anguish at Wilbur's words, at Wilbur's actions, at the burning wreckage he had traveled so far and failed to save.  "You're my son!" He protests, but the argument is weak- a desperate grasp at some sense of reason. "No matter what you did- what you have done... I can't-" </p><p>Wilbur can see the gears turning, thoughts churning through his head. And he knows it will only take but a few choice words to force his father's hand. To get what he wants, despite it all... Or maybe because of it. </p><p>And that burns too, the knowledge that this- finally this-was able to overcome years of history. Years of love and family and memories. Maybe now, finally,  he'll get to know his father's limits- his breaking point- like a child acting out for the sake of a scrap of attention. </p><p>"Phil-" he gestures back at the destruction he has caused, at the armored forms pulling themselves from the wreckage, a captive audience that can only stare as the final scenes of the show unfold before them. "This isnt- look! Look at how much work went into this and its gone!" </p><p>For a moment, Wilbur thinks he wasn't successful, that his father intends to hug him, as he steps closer with an arm outstretched. The older man's hand lands heavily on his shoulder before he can step away, fingers firmly digging into the worn and dirty fabric of his coat, and he pulls his son in closer. </p><p>Wilbur forces his tone, which has been harsh and biting, to temper. "Do it. Do it." And he looks into Philza's eyes, pleading with his father to at least give him this, just this once, please. </p><p>His father's eyes are sad, Wilbur realizes, more so than he's ever seen before. So sad and heavy with the immeasurable weight of responsibility. And Wilbur thinks he can see guilt and pity there too, within the depths of blue. His stomach twists, but the warmth of his father's embrace never comes. </p><p>Which, he should have expected this, really. He is the conductor of this whole production after all- relentlessly directing the accompaniment to his own demise. And isn't this what he was working towards all along? </p><p>Wilbur hardly feels the sword as it pierces through the ache in his chest. The symphony in his head, his heart, his soul rises to a crashing crecendo, then abruptly stops. A caesura on the score of his life, bittersweet and perfectly timed. </p><p>And despite his hot blood pooling beneath him; despite the smouldering of the sword's enchantments on and under his skin; despite the warmth of his father's arms as he drags him close, shuddering with the knowldege of what he has just done. Despite all this, Wilbur feels...cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for taking the time to read through this! I hope you enjoyed it!! Regardless, please take the time to tell me what you think as feedback is always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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